Past Destiny
by JPSaphyre
Summary: Hermione finds herself completely alone after the war, and a sullen return for her final year at Hogwarts. When all hope is lost it seems as though the universe has something else in mind. Due to a strange occurrence during a meteor shower Hermione faints, and awakes fifty years in the past within the arms of a much younger and handsome Lord Voldemort. AU.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series.

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Prologue

Hermione's POV

A blanket of a thousand twinkling stars crowded the deep blue sky overhead, innocently reflecting their magnificent beauty against the surface of the Black Lake. It was a painfully romantic picture to the heart broken girl sitting on the sandy, cold shore. Her legs were tucked securely against her chest, and her body shook silently as burning hot tears slipped down her chilled cheeks. _How could he?_ Hermione Granger thought bitterly, her eyes a dark, smoldering brown. _How could he do this to me?_ She absently chewed on her bottom lip as she stared into the obsidian depths of the lake. She wondered momentarily what it would feel like to sink into its freezing waves, allowing the water to engulf her as she floated down—way down to the bottom. Would it be any colder than she now felt? Would it make her numb? Hermione imagined that it wouldn't be so bad to feel numb right now. It would defiantly kill this horrible lonely ache in her chest. A bitter-sweet breeze swept across the shore, playing among her silky golden-brown tresses, and wrapping them around her wet cheeks. Hermione quickly pushed her hair behind her ear and sunk her chin into the arms wrapped around her knees.

She really never had saw it coming. After Voldemort's death, once the war had ended, and things had reconstructed themselves with a sense of normalcy Hermione and Ron's relationship had taken off. Of course it was, in its own sense, an expected thing. Especially after that passionate kiss they had shared in the tunnels connected to the chamber of secrets. It had been warm and clumsy, neither party aware of what they were doing, but in the moment it didn't matter. No not at all. In that moment only she and Ron had existed, and it had been blissfully wonderful amongst the chaos that had been ever so present in their world. It was normal, safe. At the time it seemed as though everything had come into crystal clear perspective. Therefore, naturally they had begun dating once they returned to the halls of a tattered Hogwarts. Hermione had found something with Ron, and she had fully committed herself to him. She was even wearing his damn promise ring! Ron, on the other hand, hadn't been so committed.

Hermione had suspected that there was something between him and Lavender, but she didn't want to believe it. She was just starting to piece her life back together. A horrible thing it was. After the war Hermione went back home to see her parents. She had thought about them often since her, Harry, and Ron's adventure had started. In the times where things seemed bleak she would remember how normal and safe her life had been before becoming a witch. How she never had to worry about dark magic, or being a muggle born, or Voldemort. It was a simpler time in which memories she would lavish in on those darker days. Yet as she had stood there, her hand levitated above the hard oak door, and her heart in her throat Hermione couldn't make herself knock. She had taken any memory of her existence away from them. They were safe without knowing her, and in the circumstance of a second war her mom and dad would again go untouched. In the end she couldn't risk them ever coming into the dangers of her world again, and so she left feeling horribly broken and alone.

So perhaps it was her selfishness that had blinded her so. She had desperately wanted to believe she wasn't alone despite all the warning signs—and there were plenty. Hermione saw the way he looked at _her_ during dinners in the Great Hall. She saw them talking and laughing, watched as his eyes lit up every time Lavender smiled. She noticed the way Lavender's gaze would linger on his lips a few seconds too long, and how she would say farewell with an extended touch of his arm. Worst of all Hermione could see the look of longing on his face every time _she_ left. She had noticed every bit of it, but she simply ignored it. Hermione had convinced herself that it was nothing, that if he didn't want her then they wouldn't be together. She had been wrong.

Damn had she been wrong. Hermione was aware of it, somewhere in the depths of her heart she had known, but she still couldn't prevent this awful empty ache in her heart. Perhaps if she hadn't found them that way, huddled together in the astronomy tower like that. If he had just broken up with her under a fair justification of differences. But when she had stumbled upon Ron with Lavender wrapped in his arms ever so tenderly, it had torn her to shreds. Then when Lavender moved to kiss him it was simply too much. Hermione had exited the tower quickly and quietly with a nauseated feeling in the pit of her stomach. Neither Ron nor Lavender had even noticed that she had been there, and Hermione supposed that was the only saving grace of the whole discovery. She didn't think she could tolerate any poorly planned excuses from her now ex-boyfriend. _You jerk…_

Of all things why did he have to cheat on her? Hermione wouldn't have caused a scene, didn't he know that? She would have backed down gracefully with what self-respect she had left. She wouldn't have cried and begged him not to leave her, she wouldn't have stopped them from being together. Hermione wasn't that type of girl. Why didn't he know that? Wiping her cheek against the rough wool sleeve of her sweater, Hermione felt for the golden band secured around her ring finger. The ring was smooth and cool under her finger tips, and seemed to make her heart sickly skip a beat. Her jaw set in a frigid manner, and her teeth grinded against one another. "Forget you Ronald Weasley!" Hermione yelled into the silence of the night as she ripped the ring off of her finger, and chucked it into the bottomless depths of the water. The band hit the surface with a miniature splash and a nearly inaudible ka-plunk! On some measure this made Hermione feel just a little bit better. Just a small fraction bit better.

She straightened her spine, and lifted her chin in a sense of satisfaction. It was petty, but the idea of Ron never getting that stupid ring back made her feel as though she had won something. A perpetual and formal way for her to say she got the better of him. He may have broken her heart, left her feeling utterly empty inside, but he would never have the pleasure of acquiring that ring for his _precious_ Lavender. Forever that band would remain at the bottom of the lake as a reminder that they had been together, and that he had cared about her as he did for Lavender now. He had cared. He had at some point. There was no way he couldn't have. Hermione's shoulders fell, and her burst of anger quickly dissipated. That horrid empty feeling was back. Maybe he hadn't cared. Maybe it was all just a façade that he had simply went along with so that he wouldn't hurt her feelings. Maybe he thought it was some kind of obligation. Good God had any of it even been real?

Fresh hot tears rolled down her cheeks as grim reality began to kick in. He had never loved her, at least not the way she wanted him to. Hermione ran a hand through her thick brown hair, breathing the cool, crisp lake air deep into her lungs. She was crying over something that was never hers… No. That wasn't it. This pathetic display was because all this time she truly had been alone. Ron had never had feelings for her, he wasn't her salvation from that all-consuming loneliness. All this time she had managed to convince herself that so long as he was by her side she would be okay, but the truth was nothing more than an absolute contradiction of that sweet little lie. Nothing is more lonely that unrequited love. Especially when it had been so real to her. Gazing up into a clear, endless night sky Hermione lost her thoughts within that dark vastness. Her selfish ignorance had cost her a good friend, and she was painfully aware of this mistake.

Absently her fingers lightly traced the contours of the time turner hanging loosely around her neck. If only she could turn the hands of time back far enough for her to fix this entire mess. Even as she thought about this Hermione knew that it wasn't possible. The time turner could only go back a few days in the past, never had she been able to go any farther than that. So those taunting thoughts were nothing more than wishful thinking. Yet she could still entertain the idea. If this could take her back to a year ago then she could stop herself from ever getting involved with him, save the both of them this heartbreak. Better yet, she could travel fifty years into the past and put a stop to—a then—young Voldemort. If she could do that then so many lives could be spared. Harry's parents could have raised their baby boy, Fred wouldn't have had to die, and she or any other muggle born would never have to worry about being hunted down like animals. Most importantly Hermione wouldn't be facing this lifetime of abandonment. She would be able to see her mom and dad again without worries, she could have had a normal, fulfilling time during her years in Hogwarts, and even find another wizard whom would invest in her as she did in Ron. Everyone's lives could be significantly changed for the better if only she could travel that far back.

Releasing a defeated sigh Hermione dropped her hand to the side, and concentrated on the starry universe overhead. Ron was supposed to be here right now, the two of them waiting to see the splendor of a meteor shower that only took place every fifty years. She had been particularly excited about this night. Supposedly, according to an ancient history book she once read this specific event was named Celeste's Shower. The story was beautiful tragedy that Hermione had never forgotten.

Thousands of years ago Celeste, a witch who was of the first magical covenant, fell in love with a mortal man. However, being one of the first magical beings to appear in history Celeste was expected to wed another pureblood such as herself. It was the only way to ensure their dying magical blood line would survive, but she refused to marry her suitor Lord Bartholomew, because she did not love him. In turn he became bitter, and resentful toward Celeste's decision to let the blood line fall extinct. His hatred would consume him, until at last he killed the mortal and cursed Celeste to a life of misery. This was perhaps the first dark magic that had ever been used. The curse caused any man that she remotely cared about to die, forcing her to marry the lord out of pure loneliness.

Her marriage to Bartholomew was as miserable as the curse itself, but Celeste had never forgotten her time with her one true love. Finally once she had bared the despicable lord a son Celeste would end her own life in order to be reconnected with her deceased love. It was the only way for her to break the curse. Legend has it that the night she died the entire sky was lit up with a magnificent meteor shower. Some say that this was Celeste's promise to help every lost soul find their one true love. From then on throughout history there were hundreds of reports of people magically finding their soul mates during Celeste's Shower.

Hermione had looked forward to this night, because before discovering the betrayal she had been convinced that Ron was her one and only. The shower would have had a special meaning for the both of them, but now it was simply a reminder that they were not meant to be. Why was her life always so complicated? While she contemplated this question Hermione leaned her weight into her arms, and tilted her head backwards to stare absently (and quite literally) into space. After a few intense moments of thought something out of the ordinary caught her eye. Passing over her head was a sphere of light surrounded in cold, blue fire and white stardust. Gracefully and soundlessly it flew through the atmosphere followed by another, and yet another. One at a time these shooting stars graced the dark night sky with their majestic presence, and then came two at a time, and three. Suddenly the entire sky was filled with bundles of blue fire and stardust. Hermione's mouth dropped open in awe at the display, and for the longest time she simply sit there in disbelief of the thousand year old spectacle.

It wasn't until she was completely enveloped in a shimmering cloud of white light that Hermione suddenly realized something was wrong. Eyes wide Hermione watched partly in terror and partly in pure shock as the time turner was lifted from her neck, and began to turn on its very own. An overwhelming sense of warmth surrounded her, and the light that was consuming her became unbearably bright. So bright that she had to close her eyes. That was the last thing Hermione Granger could remember before succumbing to the darkness.

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A/N: Thank you for reading, and please leave any comments below! :)


	2. Chapter One: Tom Riddle

Chapter One

Tom Riddle

Tom's POV

Tom Marvolo Riddle was the product of a web of lies. It was like a disease that would forever torment his life. Even at birth his entire world was a lie. His mother was a Pureblood witch whom was born into one of the most prestigious families in the wizarding world. They were of, what muggles would say, the aristocracy. Through his veins this extraordinary blood line was very much alive, yet so was that of his fathers… That disgusting mortal who regrettably helped with his creation.

In her younger years Tom's mother had fallen madly in love with a human man, a man whom did not return her feelings. Not even the least little bit. She was desperate for his affection however, and would do anything to be with him. So his mother concocted a strong love potion to set off their false 'happily ever after'. For years she secretly fed him the potion, ignoring the fact that her family had already excommunicated her for being with the man. Then she became pregnant. All those years her love had only grown for his father, while the man's love had remained potion induced. She had become too confident in the lie she had created. His mother had thought that once he saw that she was pregnant with his child, and remembered all of those wonderfully false years together that he could love her for real. She stopped slipping him her potions. The verdict was grim. Tom always imagined what a rude awakening it must have been for her. The man she had invested everything in, who she believed could love her, thought she was a despicable monster. He left her soon after. Abandoning his unborn child, and a wife whom had given up everything to be with him.

From there on their great love story became a tragedy. She lost her mind over that man. Slowly her health declined, and her depression deepened. By the time she had went into labor her body was barely able to birth the baby. Every last ounce of strength she had went into her bastard child, and soon after she died. Tom had been orphaned in a very human world. Naturally as custom the he was turned over to a local orphanage where he would spend the next eleven years believing that he was just as much of a mortal as any other child there. That was a lie he simply wished to be true.

In reality Tom's magical abilities began to surface rather early in his childhood. Tom had always suspected that he wasn't like all the other people that surrounded his young life. When he was around strange things occurred, unexplainable things that frightened those who were normal. Dishes would float into the air randomly, small fires would seemly appear out of nowhere, and sometimes when a snake appeared on the grounds he could communicate with it. For a while Tom had made it a priority to be normal and to make friends with the other children; however children are cruel creatures, and they would avoid him like the plague. They were too afraid to pick on him, but the loneliness hurt just as badly. He had grown up alone and wondering why he couldn't be normal.

They thought that he was possessed, a demon child, evil. Eventually Tom began to believe them. He started to play the role assigned to him, and chased a new objective: learning how to control his affliction. If he could only control these oddities, then he could be less afraid of himself and embrace whatever was happening to him. It took a few years but at the age of nine those strange powers of his were becoming easier to manage. Levitation of inanimate objects could be restrained, and he was able to produce fire on a whim. To Tom that was his best trick. Being able to produce fire at your fingertips was a fine power, especially since it scared everyone into letting you have what you wanted. They already feared him anyway, so to Tom it was simply a plus to be able to put that fear to use.

At age eleven Tom's entire existence would be transformed. A man named Albus Dumbledore would seek the boy out to tell him the truth about his abilities. He was an older man with an untamed red beard, twinkling blue eyes, and dressed in strange maroon robes. Albus was the first person to ever take genuine interest in Tom's powers. Tom was leery of his sudden concern. During that meeting Tom had set his entire dresser on fire, he wanted to gauge the man's reaction and test just how devoted he was to his cause. Albus hadn't so much as flinched, and—to Tom's surprise—was able to extinguish the fire with a simple wave of his hand. He had passed the test, and had sparked Tom's own interest. That night the boy left with Albus Dumbledore, and entered a world that he had always belonged to.

Learning he was a wizard was a strange concept at first, but as the years passed at Hogwarts: School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Tom was exceeding all his fellow students'—full blood or half. He was intelligent, witty, and charming among his peers of Slytherin house. Acceptance had been a challenge in his house. Typically Slytherin was exclusive to pure blood witches and wizards, and therefore was limited to a single mindset. They believed that lineage was everything, and that anyone born below their blood status was worthless. To survive a solitary lie became highly necessary; Tom couldn't admit to the blemish that was his father, and so he disclosed his family as pure bloods. It was much easier to get people to accept you if they believe you are like them. A lesson he had learnt many years ago. Eventually Tom's popularity increased, and he became generally well-liked by most everyone in the school.

His social life was kept to a bare minimum however. Tom had more important precedence to attend, such as his studies. He craved knowledge, believing that it was the key to everything. Day and night he would ravage the Hogwarts library, reading anything he could get his hands on. Tom would never forget the day he was permitted into the restricted section. He had charmed his way into getting a note from the potions instructor, Professor Horace Slughorn, to allow him into the restricted area. Slughorn had been all too happy to write that note for Tom during his third year, especially since it was strictly for research on 'potions'. The senile professor never once suspected Tom's curiosity about horcruxes. Yet another necessary lie. After a month of intense study, Tom had decided to try and create a horcrux of his own. It had been successful. This was perhaps the beginning of his long trials with the Slytherin house, and his progression to power. The chances of a third year being able to create something so complicated and emerged in dark magic was slim to none. It shouldn't have been possible, but Tom had done it. This kind of advancement showed promise. The Slytherin's flocked to him as their nature to survive surfaced, along with their recognition of power. Even then they were aware of how important of an asset he was.

At the beginning of the following year the idea of a new world order came to pass as a popular opinion. Purebloods everywhere had been in an uproar over mudbloods being welcomed into the wizarding world. How could the Ministry allow such obscenities to occur? These were filthy muggle born children who didn't belong in their perfect world. If the Ministry allowed them in, then mortals would want access to their world as well. They would be extorted by those ungrateful humans. Tensions were high, and pure blood families were horrified of losing their high-end statuses. They were desperate to stop this unseemly decision, and Tom Riddle just happened to know good opportunity when he saw it.

A band of seventh year preservatives had approached him with an arrangement that he simply couldn't refuse. They explained to Tom that they would have good positions working for the Ministry, and that they needed a predecessor to help with a premature activist group they had recently began. They needed someone trustworthy, reliable, and who wasn't afraid to get their hands dirty if needed—or more precisely someone who wasn't afraid to dabble in the dark arts. Seeing as how Tom had already created his first horcrux last fall, he was a perfect choice. Tom graciously accepted their offer. While those six seventh years worked on building their careers in the Ministry, Tom would began developing the group of young activists he called Deatheaters. It was a three year process for him to charm, and persuade a legion of more than twenty purebloods to help the cause. It was long hours of flattery and manipulation, but he had finally done it. Now during his final year at Hogwarts Tom Riddle would leave the school with a loyal, and devoted team because tonight was their inauguration ceremony.

The last three years hadn't been simply wasted on drawing people to the group. In his down time Tom had been studying some ancient, dark magic in the restricted section. Carefully he had been devising a curse he lovingly referred to as the dark mark. The dark mark would be a permanent inscription on the receiver's skin in the shape of Salazar Slytherin and his familiar. The inscription would infuse itself with its host forever bonding the servant and master. The intricate design of the mark was Tom's pride and joy. It would burn whenever he so decided to summon one of his deatheaters, and remain invisible to anyone who was not within the group. The best part about this mark was that it gave Tom complete control over anyone he administered it to.

Glancing to the starry night sky overhead Tom casually searched for the first sign of the upcoming meteor shower. Celeste's Shower was perhaps the key to the dark mark. The ancient magic that only appeared every fifty years was what would activate the mark's permanence. If he missed his chance tonight then he would have to wait fifty years for the next shower. Sliding his hand into the pocket of his slacks Tom was satisfied to feel the cold, metal box of needles against his fingers. Everything was falling into place. After tonight nothing would ever be the same for any involved. Ducking into the tree line of the dark forest Tom briskly closed the distance between him and the protection spell that was masking this little ritual.

Abraxas Malfoy was the first to greet him. Abraxas was from a very influential pureblood family. The Malfoy's were known for their extensive riches, and industrial investments in the wizarding world. Known for their impossibly blonde hair, and steel personalities the Malfoy family was a necessary ally for any developing endeavor. They had fortune, good press, and incredible ties with some very important wizards "Do you have them?" He asked as a thin platinum brow quirked upwards in expectancy. Abraxas' arrogance always irked Tom, but he refused to lose his cool with the spoiled brat. After all he would need the Malfoy's assistance in the future, and soon enough it wouldn't matter what he did to the boy. Once the fool takes the dark mark Tom would be pulling the strings, and poor Abraxas would be at his mercy.

"I have them." Tom replied tossing him the metal box. Abraxas caught it easily "Start passing those out." The servant nodded in approval, and then disappeared into the small crowd of people. As Malfoy passed the needles around Tom took up his usual position on a rock turned podium. Everyone that had attended the ceremony was murmuring softly amongst themselves, waiting for the typical flare of green sparks—which had always tipped off the meeting—to appear. For a moment or two Tom simply watched his followers. He was reading their emotions. Analyzing their movements and facial expressions for any subtle changes. Collectively the group seemed to be a bit apprehensive. It wasn't particularly unusual for them to be nervous though, after all if any one of them were to be caught out here at this time of night it would be grounds for being expelled. For most of them being expelled was absolutely shameful for their perfect pureblood families. Wouldn't want to upset mummy and daddy now would we?

Lifting his wand straight above his head Tom released the habitual display of shimmering green sparks, officially starting the meeting. Immediately the crowd dispersed and everyone took their places around the circle. Tom cleared his throat "Good evening." He greeted with a dashing crooked smile for special effects "Tonight we shall embark on the most substantial part of our young lives." Tom began satisfied to see his followers hanging off every single one of his words. "Tonight we will make a commitment, an absolute devotion to our most sublime cause. Tonight we will take a mark that will set us apart from the rest, and together we shall thrive. Let it be known that from this night on the wizarding world will forever be changed. Together we shall create a greater world that will exclude mudbloods, and ensure the purities of our magical bloodlines." Dead silence was all that could be heard from the group as they were entranced in the mental image Tom had just painted for them. People were just entirely too easy to manipulate. In the corner of his eye Tom noticed a white ball of fire appear in the night sky. Celeste's Shower was beginning "The ritual is starting!" Tom pointed to the rapid progression of shooting stars above them "Now, together let's build our heirs a world they deserve."

Each witch and wizard attending simultaneously pricked their fingers, drawing a single drop of blood. Then one by one they dripped their pure blood into the goblet stationed center of the circle. The shower had lit up the entire sky by now, and all one could see was a mass of blue fire and white star dust. Tom stepped up to the silver, emerald encrusted goblet, and touched the tip of his wand to the rim of the cup. Softly he began murmuring the ancient bonding spell. Huge, black pillars of smoked rose and overflowed from the goblet. Slowly, steadily like tar the smoke pooled to the ground, its tendrils individually seeking out a specific witch or wizard. Then the mass wound itself around their arms sealing the pact they had just made. There were a few screams of pain and terror as the mark was carved into their flesh and into their very souls, forever deeming them a servant of Lord Voldemort. Finally as he ended the chant the smoke receded, leaving in its wake a group of people who were mortified by what just occurred.

Once the initial shock had subsided Orion Black was the first to fire up "What in bloody hell was that?" He demanded jumping to his feet, and pointing an accusing finger at Tom "What are you pulling here Riddle?" Orion belonged to a line of purest whose sole purpose in this world was to maintain their stainless lineage. None of the Black family derived from mortals, and none ever would. For centuries they have kept their blood spotless from the sinful blemish of a half blood child, and this would continue for centuries more. They were a proud family, rumored to be linked to a lost royal blood line, and Orion was no exception. At times that royal heritage would turn its head, and something noble would come out of the boy. However, he would have to learn his place.

Tom sent him a sick, twisted smile "It would seem I have given you all what you wanted." He remarked his dark, obsidian eyes completely devoid of any emotion.

"What we wanted?" Orion bellowed as a look of hatred passed over his face.

"Yes." Tom repeated "What you wanted." For a moment the two of them had simply engaged in a battle for dominance, each trying to wear the other down with the weight of their stare. An unsettling tension wrapped around his other followers whom were too much of simpering cowards to try and help their friend. The worst part about having Slytherin friends was that they were only concerned with their own survival, and right about now Tom had horrified all of them into submission. Growing tired of this pointless game Tom decided to test out his new control "I suggest you sit down Orion." He warned, not an ounce of amusement in his voice. Yet that was all that need to be said. Just as Tom predicted, his statement sent the boy over the edge. Fist drawn tight Orion ran forward with every intention of knocking Tom's lights out. However mere inches away from his jaw, Orion's fist was halted mid-air and he was soon to realize that his entire body had been completely frozen in place. The curse was successful. "Now then Black, what shall we do about your insubordination?"

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A/N: I typically do not write chapters this fast, but when you are snowed in and have nothing better to do, why not? Anyway I hope you enjoyed this first chapter, and please leave any comments below :)


	3. Chapter Two: Strange Occurrences

Chapter Two

Strange Occurrences

Tom's POV

"Now then Black, what shall we do about your insubordination?" This was the most crucial component to Tom's growing power. To ensure complete control over his followers he would have to install a healthy dose of fear. Early in his life Tom had learned that the fear of those that surrounded him was much stronger, and more efficient than any flimsy friendship he could derive. While honey attracted more flies, how loyal would those flies be to your honey? Wouldn't they eventually wonder on to other people with sweeter honey than yours? Loyalty in people was a rare thing to capture. Constantly their wants and needs are changing, and once you could no longer fulfill either they would stray away. That unpredictability had to be eliminated from the equation all together. Pulling his wand from his robes Tom absorbed the horror that was consuming everyone present. The only one allowed to be unpredictable there was him. Tom slowly, calculatedly circled Orion much like a predator would his weak, vulnerable prey. He was prolonging the group's apprehension, and taking great pleasure in their obvious discomfort. Once he had fully rounded Orion a single time Tom leveled his wand with the boy's chest. This was going to be ever so satisfying for him "Crucio." The unforgivable curse left his mouth with a sense of eloquence as a wicked smirk pulled at the corner of his lips.

Orion Black dropped to the ground in a heap of dead weight the very second that streak of lime green lightning struck his chest. Eerily his body convulsed silently atop of the grass as his fellow deatheaters fell too stunned to breathe. Tom highly doubted that any of them had even heard of the unforgivable curses, much less ever seen one in action. The beauty of this curse was that it would attack the receiver's nerve endings, which would in turn cause excruciatingly painful shock waves throughout the body. In addition Tom had to commend the brilliance of it all, which was the fact that this curse left behind no evidence. No one would ever know that it had been administered to the other person, and that was the very reason he found it so useful. It was a way to keep his follower's in check without drawing too much unwanted attention to them later.

After a full minute of his little torture session Tom finally relented. Orion's body lied limply against the cold, hard ground. Apparently he didn't have a high pain tolerance. Ignoring the fainted fool Tom took his attention to the—by now—hysteric crowd "If any one of you speak of what happened tonight this will be you." Tom stated pointing directly to Orion's motionless body "Now, with the exception of Cygnus, all of you are dismissed." There was no hesitance in the way each and every one of them all but ran from the meeting sight. There was a lot of stumbling and tripping over each other as they cleared out of there like bats from hell. Tom's attempt to scare them seemed to have worked flawlessly. Turning to Cygnus Tom found a bit of amusement in how wide eyed the boy was. Cygnus Black had never been quite as noble or brave as his older cousin. In fact he was much less out spoken, and rather pathetic. Due to a crippling asthma Cygnus had always been feebler than his healthy brother, sister, and cousin. The disease was rumored to be so advanced that the Black family originally wasn't going to allow him to come to Hogwarts. However the boy had wanted so much to be like all the other children in the family that they couldn't bare denying him that experience. Since, it has seemed like Cygnus's health has significantly improved "Take your cousin back to his dorm." Tom ordered.

"O-Okay." Cygnus stammered. Quickly the boy moved to his feet, and closed the distance between him and Orion. The both of them had been a bundle deal. Due to Cygnus's poor health he had always fallen in his cousin's shadow. Orion was passionate, strong, and the prodigal child of the Black family. He was everything that Cygnus could only aspire to be. So when Orion decided to daringly join Tom's cause, Cygnus wanted to join as well. The sickly boy had surely not been his first pick, but Orion had made it clear that unless his cousin could join then he would withdrawal. So begrudgingly Tom had to take both of them. He had marked it off as a small loss. Cygnus wouldn't have anything particularly appealing to offer, but Tom supposed that the boy just made an easily disposable member. Someone he could toss out to the wolves if so needed. After all that was all he could be good for.

Turning his back on the two Black's Tom left, trusting that his deatheater could follow such simple directions. After all it was becoming rather late, and it would be unseemly of the head boy to be taking advantage of his privileges. He was supposed to be a superb role model you know. Tom snorted a little at the idea of him being any one's role model. If only the moronic Headmaster, Armando Dippit, knew the truth about his infallible little pet. He probably wouldn't have given him the title of head boy, but Tom had completely deceived the bumbling, scatter-brained dimwit into thinking he was a saint. A little show of respect, a few honorable actions, and some well-timed flattery was all it took to win over the man. Dippit was shallow, pretentious, and dull. Creating a spot in his good graces had been essentially easy. Now Dippit was tightly wrapped around his finger.

As Tom rounded the Black Lake he attentively scanned the landscape for anything out of the ordinary. While being discovered by a professor would not be the end of the world, it would certainly be a huge inconvenience. There would be a drawn out process of explanations, suspicions, and a stern lecture. It was simply unnecessary complication that Tom would rather avoid. Especially since it could be easily evaded by taking a few extra steps to not be detected. Walking across the span of sand alongside of the lake, his black loafers crunching against the small grains, Tom was soon halted by a strange phenomenon. Lying less than two feet away from where he stood was a girl. She was stretched out on her back, one arm thrown over her head, and her legs slightly spread. Hesitantly Tom approached her with the full intent to scold the girl for being out so late; however, as he stepped closer it became clear that she was unconscious. Immediately a bundle of questions seized him. Who was she? Where did she come from? What was she doing here?

Examining her rather indecent state, Tom had to resist the urge to blush at how the girl's skirt had bunched together a little too high on her thigh, revealing the edge of lacy white panties. Removing the robe from his shoulders he draped it over her body. He couldn't just leave the girl like that. Besides Dippit would adore an act of chivalry, such as carrying a distressed girl to safety. Bending down Tom slipped one arm under her back and the other behind her knees. As he lifted her off of the ground he was a bit shocked to discover how light she was. The girl didn't weigh hardly anything at all. Adjusting her in his arms the girl's head tilted to the side, leaning delicately against his shoulder. Her hair brushed against his chin, and he caught a faint scent of strawberries. It was an oddly satisfying smell. _Who is this girl?_ Tom thought once again before beginning to construct his cover story.

Hermione's POV

The first thing that Hermione Granger noticed as she drifted into consciousness was that she seemed to be floating. A slight breeze was teasing the ends of her hair, and her entire body felt weightless. The next thing that came to her attention was the heavy piece of fabric covering everything from her neck down. It was strangely familiar however, as though she had worn something similar to its texture. Finally the sudden realization that she wasn't floating, but rather being carried snapped the young witch back into reality. Fluttering her eyes open Hermione was already half-expecting to see Ron's pale, freckled face; however as her vision cleared and focused, the face before her was most defiantly not Ronald Weasley's. In fact Hermione didn't have the faintest idea who this boy was, though she privately found him rather attractive. A charming, slender, pale face set the standards for a strong jaw line, perfectly carved lips, mysterious onyx eyes, long lashes, and neatly tousled black hair. Over all Hermione admittedly found him devilishly handsome.

"Umm…" Clearing her throat in an attempt to get rid of her raspy tone, Hermione tried for the boy's attention "Excuse me." Immediately the long strides that the boy had been taking came to a rest, and those glittering onyx orbs gazed down at her curiously. A deep crimson blush crept into her cheeks, and burned brightly against her sun kissed glow "Can you put me down?" She asked pointing weakly to the ground below her. For a moment or two an awkward silence filled the tiny space between them, the boy now looking at her as though she had grown three heads. Hermione—who was worried that he may not have understood her—was about to repeat her request when he suddenly dropped her feet to the ground, and snatched what seemed to be his robe from her. Stumbling Hermione quickly regained her footing and gave the boy an infuriated glare. He could have at least warned a person before dropping the, like that. _He is so rude._ The boy sent her a snide little smirk, then turned on his heel and began to walk away "Wait!" Hermione called, but was too late. The boy had already disappeared into the shadows of the Hogwarts castle.

Utterly dumbfounded by the incident Hermione stood rooted to the spot he left her in, completely lost as to what had just happened. After a minute or two of her absent gawking the witch finally regained her composure. Putting her strange encounter aside she focused on going inside, and making her way to the Gryffindor common room. As she pushed the huge, ten foot, wooden door open Hermione was met with a rush of heat. She welcomed the warmth with a content smile and closed the door behind her with an echoing thud.

Since her last year began Hermione had found solace within the halls of Hogwarts castle. It had gradually became a second home over the years, and when she no longer had a home to return to, the old castle had become her only home. Throughout the summer, before school was once again in session, Hermione had come to help with the aftermath of the battle. She had help to magically repair walls, and clear out the rubble that couldn't be restored. Ron and Harry had begged her to spend the summer resting with them, but she had politely refused their pleas. Since this was now the only home she had, Hermione felt a sense of responsibility to help reconstruct it. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Hermione kept them at bay. Before tonight she had promised to spend her breaks with Ron and his family, but now it seemed that she would be here during semester breaks after all.

Wrapping her arms tightly around her waist Hermione decided to push any thoughts of Ron from her mind. It was pointless to suffer over him. Hermione firmly reminded herself that he had never actually belonged to her. The entire foundation of their relationship was built upon a devastating lie. She had been nothing more than a charity case, too pathetic to turn down. Biting into her bottom lip Hermione choked back the despair that threatened to drown her. Even their history together was empty of any meaning for him, yet for her it had been so much more. Ron had been her everything. Hermione had invested her heart in him, trusted him with what was left of her, and he handed that love back to her mangled and broken. She couldn't pretend that it didn't hurt. All those feelings she had for Ron were genuine, and that kind of betrayal was so painful. Maybe if he hadn't drawn his lie out for such a long time, hadn't acted like she made him happy, hadn't snuck behind her back because he was too little of a man to tell her the truth—then just maybe she could have been okay. Hermione wouldn't lie, it would have hurt if he had turned her down in the beginning, but it would have been nothing compared to what she felt now. She wouldn't have had time to fall in love with him before.

"What's wrong dear?" Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief, and her face turned white. That voice, she knew that comforting baritone, but how? How could she be hearing his voice? Albus had been dead for over a year. Looking up Hermione felt as though she was going to pass out again. There before her stood none other than a rather young-looking Albus Dumbledore. Hermione would estimate him to be in his early thirties. His usual long greying beard was much shorter, and very red. The wrinkles that had weighed down his cheeks were all but gone, with the exception of a few lines around his twinkling blue eyes "Young lady are you alright?" He asked with a concerned expression. Hermione had seen this man set six feet under and buried. There was no possibility for him to actually be here. Stretching a shaky hand out to him, Hermione reached for the sleeve of his robes. Her fingers were met with solid contact, he was real! Feeling a little dizzy Hermione leaned against a nearby wall. What was happening? "Do you need to go to the nurse?"

Hermione shook her head and sent him a small, reassuring smile "No Professor Dumbledore." Hermione choked those previous tears dangerous close to the surface.

"Excuse me? Have we met before?" His tone seemed to convey a sense of shock.

That was it. She had surpassed her breaking point. Big, hot tears rolled down her rosy pink cheeks as she slid down to the floor "Yes." She blubbered as a trembling hand clasped over her mouth. Whatever was happening Hermione had a feeling that it would turn her entire world upside down once more. She just hoped that she could survive this new development.

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading, I hope you have enjoyed this chapter :) Please leave any comments below! :)


	4. Chapter Three: Fifty Years

Chapter Three

Fifty Years

Hermione's POV

Seeing Dumbledore again brought forth a complex bundle of emotions for Hermione. She had been bewildered to be in the presence of her beloved mentor and headmaster once again. Over whelmed by the fact that he was alive, well, and breathing. It had been long over a year since his funeral. The last time she had saw his wrinkled, withered face was shortly before the lid of the coffin was sealed shut forever. That day had been cold and grey. An entire student body mourning a valiant man. The intensity of sorrow that had banded them together was unlike anything Hermione had ever felt. His death had cut them deep, and the pain had bleed out into the crowd as every tear stained face watched the casket lowered into its eternal resting place. So when Hermione had come in contact with a much younger, and very alive Albus Dumbledore, it was only an expected response for her to succumb to hysteria "Miss Granger." Hermione withdrew from the depths of her thoughts and turned her eyes to the headmaster. He was heading towards the door with a tiny, leather-bound book. Then Albus pause the moment his free hand met with the brass handle of his office door. Those twinkling blue eyes had lost their luster as he regarded her "I need to take care of some business, please stay here in the meantime, and when I return we shall discuss your situation." His tone was stern and commanding. It was very out of character for the Albus she _had_ known, which brought Hermione to the conclusion that he must have been very different in his youth.

"Alright." Hermione agreed faintly. He nodded his head in pleased affirmation and left. With a weighted sigh Hermione glanced around the room. This office was significantly smaller than the one she was used to. Of course Albus was not headmaster yet, so it would only be logical that he was accommodated with a professor's office. The room was nothing more than a small, stone square stuffed to the brim with various oddities. The Dumbledore she knew had been quite the collector, and Hermione was glad that this aspect of the old Albus hadn't changed. Shifting her gaze from one mysterious thing to another Hermione came to a halt when she recognized a familiar face. To be more accurate, a red feathered face with a hooked beak, and glittering black eyes. Smiling warmly Hermione approached the phoenix carefully, respectfully and slowly stretched out a hand. Fawkes had been a good natured bird, but this was generations earlier, essentially a completely different animal. As her nimble fingers met with his sleek feathered wing, Hermione was overjoyed to see that he had accepted her touch. A low purring-like sound emitted from the phoenix. Hermione's smile widened as Fawkes nudge his beak against her hand, hinting for her to pet his head as well. Hermione happily complied with the request "I'm glad that you haven't changed Fawkes." she murmured wistfully.

Once Hermione determined that Fawkes had been petted efficiently she turned her attention to the rest of the room, her curiosity driving her to investigate. Quietly she wondered around the small room. On the front wall sat a compacted, cobble stone fireplace. The crackling embers entertained an old, antique couch and matching chairs and end tables. On the back wall, just opposite of the fireplace sat a curved, oak desk stationed in front of a large window. On either side of the window floor to ceiling book cases stood. Naturally drawn to literature Hermione crossed the room to those timing shelves. Exhaling deeply Hermione was eased by the smell of old pages and dust. This was her comfort zone. Running her fingers along the ancient leather spines Hermione was able to finally relax a tiny bit. As she skimmed through the titles, her hand absently running along the books, Hermione was quickly snapped out of her reminiscing as something furry brushed against her fingers. Wide-eyed the witch snatched her hand away from the shelf. Scanning the books she was honestly expecting to see a rat; however as a low growl radiated from the case, Hermione was too late to recognize Edwardus Lima's copy of The Monster's Book of Monsters. Like the evil, demonic force it was, the book went flying off the shelf in a fierce rage. Bang! It hit the wood floor rather hard. Shaking off the initial shock the book narrowed its beady black eyes at Hermione's black Maryjane's. For whatever reason her plain shoes seemed to either irritate or insult the book, and with a low warning growl the thing pounced.

Pieces of paper flying from its mouth, its teeth barred hatefully, and moving entirely too fast, the book flung itself at Hermione's feet. Pure panic seizing the witch Hermione jumped onto the nearest piece of furniture, which just so happened to be Dumbledore's desk. Likewise the book vanished underneath the curved oak. Legs securely tucked under her body Hermione built up the courage to find the moody little beast. Leaning over the edge of the desk, her golden brown hair pooling over her shoulder, Hermione peered into the shadows underneath the desk. The very second the monster caught wind of her timid stare it's unstable madness was reignited. Summoning her wand from the depths of her skirt pocket, Hermione was quick to stupefy the troublesome book. With a relieved sigh the witch climbed down from her high perch, and pick the book up—this time being sure to stroke it's spine a few times before returning it to the bookcase. Just as she had returned the text to its rightful place on the shelf, the office door swung wide open. In came Dumbledore with a rather thoughtful look on his face. He took three long strides to a high-backed chair sitting adjacent to the open fire, and then wordlessly motioned with his hand for Hermione to join him.

Tucking away her most unfavorable experience with his literary collection, Hermione crossed the room, and took up residence in the chair directly across from Dumbledore. For a few moments a strange silence sit aridly between the two of them. Truthfully neither were quite sure where to start. It wasn't a particularly normal occurrence to meet a time traveler. In fact even by magical standards this was an oddity. Finally Dumbledore cleared his throat, deciding to be the first to interrupt the silence "What year are you from?" He asked taking painfully careful measures in forming his words.

"1999." Hermione replied softly, her voice sounding raspy.

Sucking in a deep breath Dumbledore couldn't hid the blatant shock that flitted over his face. It was enough to tell Hermione that whatever year she was currently in was nowhere close to 1999. That worried her. Just how far had she traveled? "Miss Granger," Dumbledore leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and his hands laced together "this is 1945." _1945…_ Hermione's mouth formed the syllables, but she simple couldn't vocalize it. She had traveled fifty years into the past. Sinking down into her chair Hermione allowed the weight of the situation to settle over her.

Never in wizarding history had such extensive time travel been recorded. In fact many magical scholars believed that it couldn't even be done. The farthest back anyone had ever gone was a month in the past, and even then the traveler had suffered severe consequences. Bruising, deep gashes, and some internal bleeding had been the compensation for his quest in time. Hermione recalled a time traveling theory, introduced by an esteemed professional she once read. The author had stated that "Time travel was a temperamental thing". For it to work the traveler first had to rip open a worm hole in the space-time continuum, which would then allow that person to travel back as far as they desired too. However everything is much simpler in theory. While there was access to these worm holes, the limitations of time travel lie within the body. The rips in the fabric of time had never been well studied, and were just as mysterious as the black holes in outer space. Though not much is known about it, enough experiments had been conducted in the previous years to conclude that it damages the body. Therefore the author believe that extensive time travel would shred the traveler's body before they ever reached their destination. Hypothetically, Hermione should have been torn to pieces during her trip through the worm hole, yet here she was. Nothing was broken, bruised, or marred. She was in perfect condition.

"Fifty years…" Hermione mumbled in disbelieve. She simply couldn't wrap her mind around it. It shouldn't have been possible.

Albus seemed to be just as unsettled as she was. Hermione imagined that he was just as aware of the impossibilities as she was. Finally after the concept began to sink in Dumbledore broke the stiff silence with another question "How did you travel this far into the past?"

"This." Hermione explained as she lifted her hand to her chest, expecting to feel the solid metal time turner resting there. Except as her fingers brushed against her collar bone the devastating realization dawned on her: The time turner was gone. Doe brown eye doubling in size, she began to run her hands fervently around her neck and down her torso. The time turner had been there, Hermione never took it off. It had to be there. Yet as her rushed investigation came to an end, the young witch was horribly disheartened to find that her irrevocable proof had disappeared. Looking up with a sadden expression Hermione knew that she had to tell him the truth "I had a time turner, but I think I may have lost it whenever I came through the worm hole." She admitted earnestly.

Dumbledore seemed to accept this answer as he nodded his head understandingly "So it was a time turner then." Albus moved away from the edge of his chair, and leaned into the plush cushion of the chair apparently satisfied with the explanation. The headmaster pulled his wand free from his robes and flicked it around once, twice, and again. From a china cabinet across the room two white tea cups floated lazily to the coffee table stationed between the two of them, and landed softly on the flat surface. Albus waved his wand once more and produced a piping hot tea pot. Kindly the pot did its duty of pouring the both of them some tea, and then disappeared into thin air. Dumbledore brought his cup to his lips, and took a little sip. A contented smile crossed his face, and he sighed into the warm drink "It seems that you will be staying here for a while Miss Granger." He noted lightly. Hermione didn't say anything, but she sensed that he didn't mind her lack of conversation. Returning his cup to the table Albus' voice took on a more serious tone "I have constructed a cover story for you. After all time travel has been banned at this time, and we wouldn't want you in any trouble." He rested his elbow against the arm of the chair, and fitted his chin into his hand "I have made arrangements for you to enroll as Minerva McGonagall's cousin. She is a reliable student, who has agreed to help me in concealing your identity. Miss McGonagall is not aware of your situation however, so please refrain from mentioning our most delicate matter. Do you understand Miss Granger?"

Hermione nodded "Thank you Professor." She said gratefully.

He returned her gratitude with a fleeting smile "Now then, shall I escort you to your temporary quarters?"

The trip to Gryffindor common room was etched in tense, dreary silence. Dumbledore was going out of his way to help her with this most inconvenient circumstance, and Hermione would be eternally indebted to him. After all Albus was taking great risks in concealing her. The magical law forbade time travel, which meant that Hermione could be classified as a delinquent in this era. If they were be found out Hermione could be imprisoned, and Dumbledore would have his teaching licenses revoked. So he was going above and beyond to help her. At last Hermione's train of thought trailed off as they approached the portrait of the fat lady "Password." She drew arrogantly, looking at the two of them through half-lidded eyes.

"Pumpkin pastries." Albus replied. The fat lady did not say anything more, perhaps too tired to do so, but instead swung her frame forward, granting entrance to Gryffindor tower "Minerva is waiting for you in the head girl's room Miss Granger. Make sure to knock three times on her door." He instructed mimicking the procedure "Tomorrow we shall discuss other pressing matters, but for now have a good night." And with that Dumbledore was gone.

Carefully and quietly Hermione tip-toed through the common room, barely escaping the detection of two Gryffindor's during their midnight escapade, and up the spiral staircase to the head girl's room at the top of the tower. As she dawned the last step Hermione was suddenly appreciative of the fact that she hadn't been nominated Head Girl. The honor paled in comparison to the fifty plus stairs one had to climb every day. Just as she was told to do Hermione gave the solid oak door in front of her three swift knocks. On the other side she could hear a mattress squeaking under someone's weight, as if they were getting up, and some rustling around. Envisioned McGonagall scurrying around in the dark, nearly tripping over one or two things, as she fumbled around for her robe. Finally the door creaked open and two luminous green eyes peered out "Are you Hermione Granger?" She asked in hushed tones.

"Yes." Hermione replied equally as quiet. Minerva stepped back and opened the door wide, quickly ushering Hermione into her dorm.

Minerva instantaneously cut to the chase and moved to her chest to dig out a spare night gown "You look about my size." She muttered under her breath as she tugged a long, white, and lacy dress made from high grade silk out of the chest. Minerva relinquished the gown to Hermione and pointed her to a door on the other side of the room "There is a bathroom over there where you can get changed." She explained "Go ahead, and I will make up a place for you on the couch." Silently complying Hermione draped the gown over her arm and entered the bathroom. Overhead a chandelier of enchanted candles lit up the tiled room. Compared to a regular dorm bathroom Hermione had to admit that the Head Girl's was rather luxurious. On one side of the room stood a golden claw foot, porcelain bathtub, on the other side was a matching toilet, and in the middle was a large vanity sink. Approaching the sink Hermione pulled her sweater over her head, and wiggled out of her black skirt and stockings. Gingerly she folded her sweater, skirt, and stockings and neatly piled them on the vanity counter. Unclasping her bra Hermione added it to the pile, slipped the silk night gown over her head, and exited the bathroom. Outside Minerva had constructed a makeshift bed on the couch, and was already climbing into bed. Neither of them said anything, and instead resigned to their beds.

That night was one of the most sleepless, most restless nights Hermione had ever encountered.

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A/N: I hope that you have enjoyed this chapter, more to come asasp. Thank you for reading, and please leave any comments below.


	5. Chapter Four: Harsh Realities

Chapter Four

Harsh Reality

Tom's POV

 _September 26_

 _Last night's meeting went exceptionally well. Everyone has now been administered the dark mark. Those fools, they had followed me so blindly… well there was an exception… Orion Black made quite a fuss. I abruptly put him back in his place however. It was the first time I had ever used the cruciatus curse, and it worked beautifully. Orion suffered such a high intensity of pain that he couldn't even cry out. I quite like that unexpected effect. I believe the cruciatus curse will help farther my control, especially since they all known what it can do now. I doubt they even knew what it was before last night._

 _On a different note, tonight's plan involves the chamber of secrets. I wasn't able to open the chamber last year, but I have studied more about my ancestry since. Salazar was a complex man, yet I admire his genius. He had sealed it so that only his blood line could awaken the chamber. If only I had known before that the incantation needed to be in parseltongue. It's an ability specified by the heirs of Slytherin. I have been able to speak to serpents my entire life, why I hadn't thought of it sooner escapes me. I supposed that I believed it to be something common among magical beings. I will be more sensitive to such things in the future…_

Dropping his long, feathered quill into a nearby ink well Tom closed his journal, and slipped it into his plain, tan book bag. That despicable girl had been staring at him once more, and he had known it was only a matter of time before she approached him. After all this was part of his daily routine. She had followed him into the library, sit exactly three tables away, and had pretended to read the same book for three weeks now. Every now and then she would tip the book forward and peek over the edge at him, then awkwardly giggle. Once she thought he was done with whatever he had busied himself with, the girl would make her move. She was simply an inconvenient annoyance in his day. Looking up with an impassive stare, Tom took pleasure in catching her peering eyes. It amused him how such a simple action would make her so uncomfortable. _Good, look away._ Tom thought as she adverted her gaze to the table. Sinking back in his chair the young lord leaned his head back to stare up at the ceiling. _Perhaps she should have been my first crucio…_ He thought, entertaining the idea of her ugly face withering in pain. Tom smirked, relatively pleased by the mental image "U-Um Tom?" and so it began.

With a sigh he sat up, settling back into his perfect posture "Good evening Myrtle." Tom acknowledge her through gritted teeth. Just once this year he would like to spend his time in the library undisturbed. As he waited for her weak, embarrassed reply Tom took the liberty of examining the girl. She truly was no better than average looking. She was entirely too thin with a rather boring face…dull brown eyes hidden behind oversized, round spectacles, sunk in, pasty pale cheeks, and stringy brown hair pulled into two childish pony tails. Perhaps her plain looks could have been made up with an endowed body, but it seemed that she hadn't won in that department either. She had the build of a little boy. In fact if it wasn't for the pony tails she might have been mistaken for a boy.

Myrtle clasped her hands together, and smiled shyly "Good evening." She chirped in an all too cheerful tone. The girl tilted her head to the side as a heated blush lit up her face. She looked similar to a rather unfavorable beet "So I was wondering, if you would maybe… Um if you would…" For a record breaking two minutes she babbled nonsense. Tom was losing his patience "would you be interested in attending the Halloween Ball with me?" Finally she had spit it out.

Only for the sake of keeping up appearances did he refrain from saying some rather unorthodox things to her. Sighing heavily Tom rested his elbow against the table, and propped his chin into his palm "I am sorry Myrtle, but I have no intentions of going to that dance." He replied, taking great joy in the way her face fell.

Idly her finger began twirling a strand of hair around it "O-Oh okay." She mumbled dejectedly. Tom knew that she was on the verge of tears, and honestly he would like to see the ugly beet cry. Momentarily he wondered how much more hideous she would be amid uncontrollable sobbing. Tom imagined that her pillow would see as much tonight "Sorry that I b-bothered you." She whispered turning her back on him, shielding him from her pathetic tears. Damn it he wanted to see that. _Oh well…_ Tom didn't bother to see her walk away. She didn't mean anything to him. In fact he couldn't care less about the dumb girl.

Tom eyed his book bag. After all there were greater thing underway than going to a dance. He needed to open the chamber and learn how to control the beast within it. It was a key component to the bigger picture. Tom wasn't completely sure what was sealed away down there—the books hadn't exactly specified—but he knew that it was powerful. If he could only harness the beast's capabilities, and have it do his bidding, then that would speed up his plans tenfold…Tom would need the extra time. He was pressed to execute and establish a group of formidable deatheaters before the year ended. Too much precious time had been taken by gathering them together. This year he had to take a series of steps to bring those ungrateful brats to their full potential. It would be quite the trial, and so there simply was no time for such petty things as dances.

Hermione's POV

 _His hands slid down her arms in the clumsiest of manners, his lips moving uncertainly against hers. That was her Ron. Carefully the palms of his hands dropped from her elbows to her slim waist. Ron leaned back to look at her flushed face, and Hermione loved the contented smile that graced his lips "Hermione." He whispered softly as one of his hands disappeared into his slacks pocket. Tilting her head cutely to the side, she look up at him in curiosity "Gime your hand Mione'." She easily complied with his request, and delicately rested her hand into his palm. Gently, shakily he glided a thin golden band on to her ring finger._

 _"Ron..?"_

 _His face lit up bright red "Uh I'm not proposing or nothing." He said quickly. Hermione furrowed her brows, confused by what the ring represented. Ron scratched the back of his head in embarrassment "It's a promise ring." He explained. Hermione stared down at the gleaming band, her heart faltering as she began to understand the meaning behind it "So uh… Do you like it?" He asked with a nervous look on his face._

 _Hermione beamed up at him "It's lovely Ron." She murmured._

Fluttering her lashes Hermione blinked once, twice… again. Slowly the sleep ridden haze began to disperse, and her vision began to clear and focus. With a soft, sweet little yawn Hermione sit up with heavy lidded eyes. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes Hermione was surprised to find her cheeks damp. _Why was I crying?_ She wondered as she stretched her arm high above her head. The dream she had had wasn't a particularly sad one. Glancing around her room Hermione was impacted with harsh reality. Memories of the last twenty four hours began to resurface, and she was cruelly reminded that her world had be flipped upside down. Ron had cheated on her with Lavender, and as if things couldn't get worse she had been mysteriously transported fifty years into the past. A bitter taste filled Hermione's mouth as she recalled her current situation. How unfair it was. It seemed as though the universe never wanted her to see a moment's of peace ever again.

"You're finally up I see." Glancing up Hermione was met with a very young Minerva McGonagall. Minerva smiled politely "I'm afraid Professor Dumbledore won't be able to see you until later this evening." She informed Hermione as she settled in beside her on the couch.

"Thank you." Hermione mumbled as she pulled her legs tightly against her chest, and rested her chin in her knees. She just didn't feel like a great lot of conversation.

Minerva rolled her eyes. Hermione could almost hear what she was thinking. _Stop wallowing in self-pity. Pick yourself up Granger!_ "While you were asleep I was able to find you a uniform. You should get changed." Minerva suggested motioning to her canopy bed where the uniform was hanging from a post. Hermione gazed up at the skirt and blouse for a moment before burying her head into her knees. She didn't want to put that uniform on. She didn't want to leave this room and pretend that everything was normal and all fine and dandy. With an irritated sigh Minerva stood up "Sitting here feeling bad for yourself won't help you at all." She chided firmly while pecking on the top of Hermione's head to get her attention "I don't know your situation Hermione, but you'll never recover from it if you don't try." Minerva wrapped both her hands around Hermione's thin wrists "So come on." She gave Hermione a tug, putting all her weight into it, and succeeding in pulling the dejected girl to her feet. Minerva smiled brightly at her "That it!" She cheered, obviously ecstatic about her progress "Now then I have one more class. But while I'm gone you should get a bath and slip into your uniform." The young professor had already started to gather her books together, and was starting to stuff them into her book bag "I have set out some fresh towels." She mentioned while shoving a blank scroll into her already cramped bag "Please feel free to use my soaps." She chimed just as the door closed behind her.

Once again Hermione was alone.

Eyeing that uniform hanging off the bed post Hermione sighed in defeat. McGonagall was right. She needed to do this "Okay Hermione, let's try to look presentable." She told herself as she headed to the bathroom. Snatching the uniform from the bed on her way.

Sitting on the edge of the tub, Hermione leaned over and twisted the crystal knobs. Warm water rushed down from the faucet and spread across the porcelain bottom. A small amount of steam rising into the air. Breathing in deeply Hermione was able to relax just a little. Perhaps a nice, hot bath was what she truly needed. As she waited for the tub to fill up, Hermione turned her attention to the mirror hanging above the sink. The condensation from the bath was already sticking to the reflective glass. Going back to her bath Hermione twisted the knobs backwards, cutting off the steady stream of water. Ridding herself of the long night gown and panties, Hermione descended into the water. One leg at a time she stepped in. The water was impossibly warm against her bare legs. It felt rather good to the overly stressed witch. Slowly she slid down into the water, reveling in the way it warmed her to the bone. Smiling to herself Hermione leaned her head against the back of the tub. For a while she simply stared at the mosaic tiled ceiling. It was an astonishing piece. A very intricate scene of a beautiful woman perched in the crevice of a crescent moon. She wore a flowing, long, deep purple dress whose tail dangled off of the moon. _I wonder if that has a story..._ Memorizing the details of the work Hermione thought about the story of Celeste. She imagined that the tragic witch resembled the one in the mosaic. _What an intriguing notion…_ As she sank deeper into the water Hermione allowed her thoughts to wander.

One particular thought pertained to Minerva McGonagall. Hermione had never before considered what she had looked like as a student. To her the older woman with round framed glasses, smile lines around her mouth, and greying hair piled into a bun atop of her head had been Minerva McGonagall. She had never taken the time to imagine her professor to appear as anything else. So when Hermione had met her last night it was a bit stunning to see this very different McGonagall. Her younger years had been very kind to her. She was a very beautiful girl. Thick mahogany hair flowing to her shoulders in fine, silky waves, flawless porcelain skin, and a body formed in plenty of curves. Hermione had to admit that her professor had been a looker for sure. Absently she wondered if McGonagall had broken very many hearts in her youth. Hermione liked to think that she had. After all she was gorgeous, any boy would love to have her at his side. Smiling Hermione entertained the idea of staying a while, just to see what her old professor had been like as a high-spirited seventh year. She was willing to bet it would be rather amusing.

Wrapping up her bath Hermione pulled the plug from the drain, pulled a clean towel around her, and climbed over the side of the tub. Feeling a bit water logged Hermione trudged over to the uniform on the back of the door. She allowed the towel to fall to the floor, and reached up to unclasp the familiar black robe from the hanger. Noticing a bulge in the pocket Hermione stuck her hand inside, and pulled out a clean pair of panties and a bra. Both embarrassed and relieved Hermione dawned her under wear. Once the proper adjustments were made to her plain white under garments, the witch slipped into her black pleated skirt. As always the fabric touched her mid-thigh. _Well the uniforms haven't changed._ She thought privately as she pulled the white button up shirt over her arms, and on to her shoulders. Fixing the collar, Hermione began to work on the row of white buttons down her blouse. She didn't have a tie just yet, and she suspected it was because she hadn't be sorted into a house. Once she had fully dressed herself, Hermione began the trials with her unruly hair.

Eventually she was presentable. _Alright Hermione, let's do this._

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A/N: Thank you for reading, and please leave any comments below! :)


	6. Chapter Five: The Heir's Inheritance

Chapter Five

The Heir's Inheritance

Tom's POV

Salazar Slytherin was revered as a founder of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He was a phenomenal wizard with an unmatched intellect and a prestigious pureblooded pedigree. Many thought of him as an asset to the wizarding community and for years he taught the youth of his generation. But when the wizarding world began changing, Salazar Slytherin remained at a standstill. The other founders wished to introduce muggle born witches and wizards into the halls of Hogwarts. Salazar openly protested this notion, but he was crudely outnumbered. In outrage the Head of Slytherin house abandoned the very school he had helped to build. However, before he resigned as a professor, Salazar left behind his legacy hidden within the walls of Hogwarts. It had taken months of research to piece together just where Tom's inheritance had been stashed. He had spent countless nights following leads only to come to a screeching halt. Then just has he had reached the end of his research, Tom stumbled upon a connection with the second floor bathroom. Some older maps of Hogwarts revealed that the original room had belonged to Salazar himself, but had long since been reconstructed into a bathroom. Upon farther inspection Tom was pleased to find a serpent engraved into the facet of one of the sinks.

Staring impassively into the mirror hung just above that facet, Tom regarded his image disdainfully. He looked just like his father. That nasty stain on his family's bloodline. Tom hated his reflection. He hated the fact that he was that bastard's spitting image. Though begrudgingly he had to admit that his appearance did prove to be valuable at times. Thick tussled, black hair, brooding, dark brown eyes, a fair complexion, and a strong jawline. They were all aspects of his father, but his lips, those belonged to his late mother. They were a pale red, the bottom fuller than the top. Combined all of these features conjured a rather powerful playing card for Tom. A person's appearance boosts their ability to be charming and conceals any hints of a mischievous nature. It was similar to a wolf in a sheep's skin.

Although he loathed his father and the fact that they looked so similar, his looks were the only thing that that damned muggle had ever given him in which had any value. Furthermore, Tom would begrudgingly admit that he didn't particularly consider himself ugly. One had to consider the fact that his mother, who was so entranced by the very same face, tricked his father into giving her his affections through an extremely powerful love potion. Additionally, more than a handful of times he had been referred to as devilishly handsome by the girls he passed in the hallway. Therefore, he must not be an ugly man. After all there were numerous girls who pined over him. He was often repulsed by them. Many of the girls that swooned over him were conceited, obsessed with appearances, and always dimwitted. He didn't much care for such superficial women. Thus he had never made an effort to delve into a relationship. Then came along this opportunity to restore the purity of the wizarding bloodline, of which became a very time consuming project, so the prospect of him even considering a relationship was quickly extinguished. He didn't have time to meddle in trivial things such as girlfriends.

Sitting aside his wayward thoughts Tom reminded himself of why he was standing in the second floor bathroom. Taking a step back from the collection of ornate, stone sinks Tom decided that it was time to unleash his inheritance "Open." He hissed softly in Parseltongue. On his command the sink branded in Slytherin house levitated from the ground revealing the entrance to the chamber. A cool breeze swept across Tom's face, it was similar to the temperature change he felt once entering the common room. Wherever that tunnel led to, it must be underground. Tome pulled his wand out of his robes and softly mumbled "Lumos Maxima" as he descended into the tunnel. All at once bright, white light flooded the darkness and the entrance sealed shut behind him. Peering into the crevices that his light didn't touch, Tom became a little leery of the tunnel. Salazar was not a stupid man. Surely he had sought to protect his beast. Silently running through a few of his best defensive spells, Tom discarded his concerns, and descended the staircase before him. He took each step one at a time, mindful of the placement of his feet. Once he had reached the bottom of the staircase safely, Tom found himself staring into the endless dark abyss that was a tunnel to the unknown. A cool dampness settled across his skin and the vague smell of mold invaded his nose. This however would not defer him from continuing on.

Tom's thoughts wondered off as he traveled the expanse of the tunnel, disregarding the sound of rats scurrying away from the light of his wand. The species of Salazar's beast had never been disclosed in the books he had studying during his research. Instead it was only called a formidable, vicious creature with glowering yellow eyes. Such a description has left quite a bit to the imagination. It could be anything really. Many of the magical creatures he had come across in his school studies were considerable formidable, and yellow eyes were not exactly uncommon in animals. Tom didn't have the faintest idea of what Salazar had stashed away under the school, but according to several versions of this legend it was meant to be used in ridding the school of mudbloods. Those children who had no magical ties other than simply being born with their magical abilities. They didn't deserve the rights to a world that they truly had no part in, and yet there were wizards like Albus Dumbledore who searched for those unentitled flukes of nature. Tom's gaze darkened. He had never trusted that man. Albus put on a good show. He spoke in a philosophical manner that would suggest that he was a scholarly man, he was charming, endearing, and most of all extremely dangerous. He was well-liked by his colleagues, respected and admired by his students—he had them all fooled. None of them was ever the wiser to the ulterior motive that hide behind those sparkling blue eyes. That uncanny ability to immediately gain the trust of people was what made him so dangerous. No one ever questioned his mysterious disappearances, or the unsavory people that Tom would notice leaving his office late at night while on hall duty. After all he was a 'good' man, and they were able to give him the benefit of the doubt in good conscious. It was an ignorant thing to do in Tom's opinion. Albus was dealing in some suspicious circumstances, and though Tom was unsure of what he was up to, he made it a point to avoid the professor altogether.

Tom's thoughts faded away as he came upon a heavy metal door embellished in the bodies of stone serpents coiled within one another. Four detailed snake heads poked out of the entangled bodies, and stretched to the edge of the circular door, their glimmering red eyes watching Tom ominously. With a closer inspection of the door Tom noted that there was no knob. This was not particularly out of the ordinary. He had expected something like this, after all the chamber was only meant for the heir of Slytherin to open. Going off a mere suspicion Tom whispered open in his rare, inherited language. He was proven to be correct. The loud squeaking of the unused hinges pierced his eardrum, but Tom didn't so much as flinch for his eyes were intently focused on the entrance to the chamber of secrets. All of his research had finally paid off. Peering into the hollow darkness beyond the threshold of that door, Tom squared his shoulders and stepped into the chamber with a sense of ownership. As if being welcomed home the aisle before him lit up a brilliant shade of lime green. Huge columns with serpents carved into them lined either side of the stone walkway. Each of the snake's mouths were open wide in such a way that it gave Tom the impression that they may be hissing silently at him. Within those mouths were magically charmed fires sporting green flames. Beyond the columns was what appeared to be a small, underground lake, and at the end of the pathway was a gigantic carving of a man's head into the wall. The carving had to be twenty feet higher or more. The man represented in the carving was undoubtedly Salazar Slytherin himself. Tom studied the high cheek bones, dead eyes, and long hair that flowed down into the lake. Absently he traced the contours of his lips. He was almost certain that they were alike in that aspect. After all it was one of very few features he had inherited from his mother.

Tom began to move deeper into the chamber, drawn to the impressive statue before him. This was his family's legacy. Before him was the man that had started it all… all the fame and fortune that his mother had foolishly disposed of the moment she married his damned father. Tom's steps faltered and he slowed to a halt, suddenly seized by a foreboding thought. He wasn't a pureblood like Salazar. Whether he liked it or not Tom still had muggle blood running through his veins. With his impurities, would he be able to take control of the creature that did inhabit this chamber? Would it respond to him? Or would it turn on him? Up until that point Tom had neglected to consider such a notion. He had simply assumed that he would have control of this creature. Now it was dawning on him that the possibility of his control was nothing more than a fifty-fifty chance. He wasn't particularly fond of those odds.

Thinking better of his bold assumptions, Tom was just about to turn around and leave when he was rooted to the stone floor by a chilling hiss _"Who are you...?"_ Scanning his surroundings Tom looked for whoever or whatever it was that had asked the question. Upon discovering that he was utterly alone in the chamber a cold chill went spiraling down his spine. Where had it come from? _"I will only ask once more…. Who are you?"_

Without realizing it Tom had slipped into parseltongue and responded in the language of the serpent _"My name is Tom Riddle."_ Heannounced concealing the waver in his tone _"I am the heir of Slytherin."_

 _"The heir of Slytherin!"_ All at once the smooth, calm surface of the lake was broken by an explosion of water as a beast rose up out of the lake. In the aftermath, the displaced water rained down onto the pathway, soaking through Tom's robes. Once the spray had settled Tom pushed his dripping wet bangs out of his eyes to get a better look at the creature that was now sitting before him. His breath hitched in his throat as he looked upon the scaly body of an impossibly large serpent. Almost immediately Tom knew that he was openly gawking at a basilisk. Quickly he adverted his eyes to the floor as he knew that this creature's gaze was deadly _"Fear not young heir of Slytherin."_ The creature hissed gently _"I wish not to harm you."_ The snake bent its neck forward until it's head was directly in front of Tom. He was willing to bet that the beast's head was nearly the size of a small car, and there was not a doubt in his mind that behind those thin scaly lips rows of venomous, pointed teeth lied. Cautiously he viewed the reflection of the creature through the puddle of water that lay at his feet. To his surprise a white, milky film was concealing its yellow eyes. Placing more stock in a mere suspicion than he should have, Tom looked directly at the basilisk's strange eye. As he had predicted nothing occurred. He had survived a look into the eye of a basilisk, and had not been petrified. Now arose the question of why he had not succumbed to the same fate that so many others would imperatively have.

"Why is it that I did not die when looking into your eyes?" Tom asked in partial amazement.

 _"Every basilisk can conceal their deadly gaze."_ Replied the serpent. Tom thought on this for a moment and determined that such an ability would undoubtedly be crucial to the lineage of their species. After all, if they had a deadly gaze then would they not kill their partner in the process of reproduction? It made sense for the basilisk to be able to conceal their eyes, if only for the sake of their species continuance. Cautiously Tom extended his hand toward the nose of the serpent until his palm was flat against the emerald green scales of the creature. She held deathly still as he ran his hand from the tip of her nose, along the length of her jaw, and part way up her neck. He was mesmerized by the texture of her scales. They were cool to the touch and smoother than any silk he had ever encountered. Once he was satisfied with his minor investigation, Tom allowed his hand to drop to his side, and decided it was time to get to the business aspect of this discovery.

"I have come seeking your help." Tom announced, a slight curve tipping the corners of his lips upward.

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A/N: I hope that you have enjoyed this chapter, thank you so much for reading! If you have any comments please leave them in the box below :)


	7. Chapter Six: The Sorting Hat

Chapter Six

The Sorting Hat

Hermione's POV

Hermione stepped out into the cool stairwell gently easing Minerva's bedroom door closed behind her. It seemed that the old stone staircase that spiraled around the girl's tower hadn't changed a bit. The female students had decorated the walls of the staircase with various odds and ends. Seeing that that little tradition was around even then was a comforting thought that Hermione clung to as she descended the stairs. Upon entering the Gryffindor common room, she found that not much had changed there either. The furniture was more suited for the forties, but had been arranged in the same manner she had remembered. No one was currently occupying the room—possibly due to the fact that classes were still in session—So Hermione took advantage of the empty room by conducting a small exploration. The same old red tapestries and portraits adorned the stone walls, the same ancient chest table with all its pieces sat between the two staircases that separated the boys and girls dormitories, and the same huge fireplace was crackling away with a continuous cozy little fire in its hearth. It eased Hermione's mind to have a sense of familiarity with the room.

Seeing as she had quite a bit of time before she could meet with Dumbledore, Hermione wandered over to the book case and pulled out 'A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration' by Emeric Switch. It was a book that she had studied cover to cover during her first year at Hogwarts. Now it seemed rather fitting that she should read it again since this was her first time being in Hogwarts fifty years earlier. With a half-hearted smile Hermione settled into the cloth, red couch sitting across from the fireplace, and cracked open the old text book.

She had just started the chapter about turning your familiar into a goblet when a few students drifted into the common room. Idly glancing up Hermione was surprised to recognize one of the students. He was a half-giant she had come to regard as a dear friend in the future, Rubeus Hagrid. The book that she had been holding in front of her face fell to her lap as she took in a very young Hagrid. Compared to the rest of the student's he certainly stood out. True to his giant heritage it seemed that he had managed a rather large growth spurt. He loomed a good two feet taller than the other boys he was talking to. He was a little heavy set, but not noticeably so, and his hair was still a unkept messy mop atop of his head. The only differences she noted was that he hadn't grown a beard yet. It was nice to see another familiar face, even if he didn't know who she was yet.

Not wanting to attract any attention to herself, Hermione turned her eyes away from the half-giant and back to her book. She continued reading until Minerva found her and relayed a summons from Dumbledore.

The travel to his office was sort as she knew an efficient short cut. Standing outside of his door Hermione knocked three times and waiting patiently. As predicted the door swung open, inviting her to come in "Good evening Miss Granger." Albus greeted from behind his desk as she walked through the threshold.

"Good evening." Hermione replied with a slight nod.

"Please take a seat." Dumbledore offered motioning to a high-back chair directly across from him. Hermione graciously took the chair with a soft smile to her beloved headmaster. Albus laced his fingers together and propped them on top of his desk scattered with various important papers "Shall we get started?" He asked. Hermione responded with a curt nod "Alright then. I have informed Headmaster Dippet of your arrival as Miss McGonagall's cousin. So that there will be no hairy questions to answer in the future, I have disclosed that you have recently lost both of your parents in a revolutionary raid in your village, Tinworth, and have come to live with your cousin's family." Hermione briefly remember that 1945 was the height of Grindelwald's makeshift revolution. Tinworth had been a village that he had attacked due to the fact that muggles and magical beings lived closely and peacefully together. He had sought to destroy the idea of coexistence, because he believed that muggles should be dominated by witches and wizards. The thought of Grindelwald made Hermione uneasy "It seems that his name has left a mark on our future history." Dumbledore inferred as he read the nervous look on Hermione's face.

She nodded "Yes, he most certainly did…" Hermione replied quietly. She had nearly forgotten how very different the wizarding world was fifty years in the past. How dangerous it was to be muggle born or a half blood. Though, with the rise of Voldemort in her generation, Hermione had once upon a time got a taste of that dangerous world, and it had left one hell of a bitter after taste.

Sensing her troubled mind Dumbledore refrained from pursuing any questions, and continued on "Now that you will be attending this school Miss Granger I must strongly advise that you avoid going into any details with your new classmates, or steering away from the original story. Above all else you mustn't reveal that you have time traveled. I'm afraid that in such a case I would be unable to help you. Are you clear on everything that we have discussed?" He asked firmly.

"Yes, I understand Professor." Hermione responded fully understanding the severity of her situation "I do have one question however," She began hesitantly "Have you any idea on how I might get back to my time?"

"Unfortunately, I haven't the slightest clue on how to return you to your time Miss Granger. Every time turner has been confiscated by the Ministry and destroyed. It would be very difficult to come across one. In fact, it may be next to impossible. The study of time is forbidden, and there hasn't been much progress made in the area. I think it may be a good idea for you to consider permeant residence in this time period." Hermione's stomach dropped as she thought about never being able to return home. A frown tugged at the edges of her lips as she realized that she would never be able to see Harry or Ginny again. How had she ended up in such a terrible mess? "Still I will do my best to try and find a way for you to go home."

Hermione nodded her head robotically "Thank you Professor."

A stiff silence settled between the two of them as the weight of his words weighed on both of their minds. To inform someone that they may never be able to go home was a hard thing to do, and an even harder thing for that person to accept. Honestly it didn't seem real. The thought of never again spending half the night talking to Ginny about any and everything. Of never again seeing Harry play in a Quidditch match, or hear him call her 'Mione' when she had lost him during their discussions. She couldn't imagine never going back to the Burrow or… or never seeing Ron again. She absently felt for the ring that wasn't on her finger. Even if he had broken her heart, she couldn't bare not ever seeing him again. They had all been through so much together. How could she possibly forget about that life? For a long while the silence stretched on until it was interrupted by a knock at the door. Glancing up Hermione caught sight of a man who had invited himself in.

Dumbledore rose up out of his seat with a joyless smile "Ah Headmaster Dippet, I hope you are well this evening."

"I'm doing well Albus." He responded simply. Armando Dippet was a feeble looking man. He was very tall with a slender, delicate build, long wavy white hair, and a neatly kept beard. His skin was pasty and paper thin, and was adorned by several thick midnight blue robes, with the outer layer lined in some sort of tawny animal fur.

Hermione stood up in respect for the Headmaster "Good evening Headmaster." Her greeting was sugary sweet and seemed to immediately warm him up.

His dark brown eyes lit up with his smile "And a good evening to you Miss Granger." Dippet replied as he adjusted his grip on the old, brown hat in his hand. Hermione recognized it as the sorting hat. The headmaster lifted it up "I'm sure that Albus has filled you in on the sorting process?"

She gave Dumbledore a sly glance as she nodded her head "Oh yes, and I believe that is the sorting hat, correct?" Hermione asked pointing to the suspected hat.

"Too right you are Miss Granger. Now then, shall we get you sorted?"

"Yes please." Replied Hermione politely, feigning excitement. Headmaster Dippet had her sit back down into her chair and placed the dusty old hat on her head.

The hat stretched its brim as it came to life atop of her head "Oh, what do we have here?" He asked standing to attention. Hermione imagined that folded smile he always wore "Ah yes you have some noble qualities. Loyalty, intelligence, bravery… I would quite like to see you in Gryffindor." Hermione felt a bead of sweat trail down the back of her neck as she waited for him to sort her, his chatty nature had always made her a bit nervous "Still you would also do well in Slytherin…" _What!_ Hermione's heart pounded so hard against her chest that she was certain it would break one of her ribs. Then a thought came to her. Harry once mentioned that when he was being sorted that the hat was torn between to houses. Harry had asked the hat to put him in Gryffindor, and it had taken his request into consideration. Perhaps he would factor in her request as well.

"Not Slytherin." Hermione begged softly.

"Not Slytherin hey? Are you sure? Slytherin has provided a great deal of success for its students. It could lead you to greatness!"

"Not Slytherin." Hermione repeated.

"If you are sure… Well then, best go with… Gryffindor!"

Relief flooded Hermione's body as the hat was removed by an enthusiastic Armando Dippet. He extended his hand to her, and she shook it a bit timidly. Headmaster Dippet smiled happily "Congratulations Miss Granger, Gryffindor is a fine house. I was in Gryffindor at your age. I trust that you should make friends fairly easily." He then retracted his hand and turned to Dumbledore "How exciting, it seems you have a new student to look after Albus. I have a good feeling about this one."

Dumbledore faked another smile "Ah yes, it is nice to have another student join Gryffindor house." It appeared to Hermione that the young Albus Dumbledore was not the care free, fun-loving, lemon drop enthusiast that she had come to know in the future. In his youth Dumbledore seemed more refrained from silliness. He was more serious, and down to business. He remined her vaguely of Severus Snape. Perhaps that's why the two of them had gotten along so well, because they were just a bit similar. She repressed a giggle at the thought of Dumbledore playing the role of a cranky professor. Still even though she had tried to keep her thoughts private, it seemed that an amused crooked smile had worked its way across her lip. Albus noticed her humored state and lifted an inquisitive brow. Quickly Hermione wiped the smile off her face just as Headmaster Dippet excused himself from the room with mention of dinner approaching "I haven't the slightest idea who this professor Snape is, but I most certainly do not come off as 'cranky'." Blushing Hermione quickly realized that he had used legilimency to hear her thoughts on Severus. She found his intrusion strange. The Albus she had known wouldn't have invaded someone's privacy like that, but it was becoming obvious that this young Albus was a very different person.

Tom's POV

 _Everything is going as planned this week. The death eaters have been inaugurated and I have convinced the basilisk to help me in ridding this school of those pesky mudbloods. At this rate, I should have everything ready before the year comes to an end…_

Tom allowed a devilish, crooked smirk to capture the side of his mouth as he returned his dark green quill to its ink well. Closing his diary, Tom slipped the old black book into his bag, and decided to try and act as though he was paying attention to a rather boring lesson on how to brew Polyjuice potion. It was a juvenile lecture that Tom had already been given during some private lessons with the feeble-minded potions professor: Horace Slughorn. Those extra lessons were necessary to get closer to the professor and win over a pass into the restricted section of the library. Naturally his plan had worked like a charm. Tom glanced to his book bag, his thoughts turning to that black diary. It was his first horcrux, his very first attempt at dark magic. The idea of creating such a thing came from one of those books in the restricted section, so he supposed that professor Slughorn—unknowing to him of course—aided in a great deal of Tom's interest in dark magic. That diary played as a sort of tip of to the man that made it possible. Of course, the bumbling professor was never the wiser to his dark endeavors, and that was just the way Tom preferred it.

At last potions class came to an end, and Tom was dismissed for the day. He was thankful that he didn't have any more classes today. As he was gathering his supplies into his bookbag Tom was bombarded by a girl from Slytherin House that he recognized as Margot Droope. Margot was a shameless, wanton kind of woman who was rumored to have pleasured almost every guy in the school. Tom had even heard that she had a secret cipher letter that could be used to have her meet you in private quarters. Of course, he wasn't sure how true any of those rumors were, but the way she dressed was definitely questionable. Margot never wore her outer black robe. She always pranced around the school in a very short skirt that just barely covered her back side, and a thin white button up with her top buttons undone indecently so. Sometimes she would wear her green striped tie as a choker, today was not one of those days. Margot walked up to Tom with a little sway to her hips "Hey Tom…" She greeted him in a low, breathy tone.

"Hello Miss Droope." Tom responded knowing that his formality would irritate her.

She hitched a perfectly thin eyebrow at him "Come now Tom." Margot paused as she leveled both palms on his desk and leaned forward in a seductive manner, with a good deal of her cleavage on display "I've told you that it is perfectly fine to call me Margot." She reminded him as her full, ruby red bottom lip jutted out "You know I'm not a fan of all that propriety non-sense." Her large green eyes looked up at him with feigned hurt. If he was being truthful with himself, Tom could admit that Margot was a very attractive woman. She had a voluptuous body. She was well endowed with both large breasts and a nice rounded butt. Her hips were seductively curved with a tiny waist to set them off, and her face was pretty easy on the eyes as well. She had evenly tanned skin and long shiny black hair, and unlike most girls her age she was well-practiced in the art of makeup.

"Forgive me _Miss Droope,_ but I unfortunately am a fan of all that propriety non-sense." He watched with mild amusement as she became confounded. Boys never brushed her off. Margot was used to her male classmates falling at her feet and worshiping the ground she walked on. She was an object of desire and lust that most boys would kill to capture the attention of. One simply did not ignore Margot's advances. She was not the kind of girl that a boy lightly dismissed. So how dare him to push her away like she was a bad pumpkin pastry. It simply wasn't something that was done to Margot Droope, and yet he had. Taking advantage of her confused state Tom pulled the strap of his bag onto his shoulder and left the classroom. He had more pressing matters to attend to then stroking the ego of a slutty girl. For example, he had become quite famished since breakfast.

As usual the Great Hall was bustling with students waiting for dinner to start. Pointless, idle chatter filled the air as friends exchanged dull stories about their day, and girls aided in breathing life into scandalous rumors. It was your typical afternoon in Hogwarts. Nothing particularly out of the ordinary was going on. Tom took his seat next to Abraxas Malfoy—who had recently taking up to quite a bit of brown nosing. Abraxas had been making some nervous, flirty conversation with a blonde girl, who Tom hadn't bothered to learn the name of. However once Tom had sat down beside him the awkward conversation died, and Abraxas had shooed the girl away "Hey Tom, how are you today?" The sniveling Malfoy asked more out of fear than genuine curiosity.

Tom wasn't interested in small talk this evening, and had ignored Malfoy's question completely. Instead he had set his eyes on the Gryffindor table. There wedged between that insufferable Myrtle Warren, and sharped-tongue Minerva McGonagall was that strange girl he had encountered the other night "Who is that girl?" Tom asked flatly. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't trust her.

"What girl?" Abraxas asked with a puzzled look on his dumb face.

"The one sitting with McGonagall." Tom replied, nodding in her direction.

Abraxas shrugged "I don't know, but she's awfully cute isn't she?"

Tom rolled his eyes. He was absolutely useless. Honestly Abraxas would jump anything that moved. Tom decided to investigate for himself. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the small group of girls " _Legilimens."_ Tom muttered under his breath. He was intending on taking a peek into that new girl's mind when bam! He hit a solid mind block. Immediately this rose a few red flags. This strange girl was using a mind blocking charm. If she was only a mere student, why would she need to protect herself from her thoughts being read? Who was that girl?

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A/N: As always, thank you for reading! Please leave any comments in the box below. See you next chapter!


	8. Chapter Seven: Young Voldemort

Chapter Seven

Young Voldemort

Hermione's POV

After being sorted Albus called on Minerva to see Hermione to the great hall for dinner. It seemed that hardly anything in this castle had ever changed. As they winded through corridors on their way to the Great Hall Minerva found it necessary to discuss every last detail of the school. Here and there she would point out rooms and give a brief description of the classes that took place in those rooms. Hermione was only partially listening to Minerva, interjecting a nod here and there as was needed. She had become rather distracted by the memories that these unchanging halls brought about. It was within these very same walls that her, Harry, and Ron had shared adventure after adventure. It seemed that they were always getting into some sort of trouble from battling trolls to conducting a secret wizard army. Her eyes softened as they past by the Transfigurations classroom. She recalled her very first transfiguration lesson. They were to turn their familiars into a goblet. Of course, Hermione hadn't had any trouble in morphing her familiar into a fine cup. Ron, on the other hand, had only been halfway successful due to his broken wand. She could so clearly remember Scabber's tail wiggling around where the handle should have been "And here we are, the Great Hall." Hermione had been so wrapped up in her memories that she very nearly didn't hear Minerva announcing their arrival to the Great Hall. The tall, grand doors split apart before them, and Hermione relaxed as the familiarity of the room surrounded her. Even fifty years in the past the great hall was still summoning huge, succulent feasts. Idle chatter filled the room and echoed against the enchanted, high vaulted ceilings. Tonight, a marvelous, cloudless night sky loomed over head. Thousands of lit, white candles floated high over the tables, and cast the room in a pale, yellowish glow. It almost felt as though she was coming home, but just almost.

Minerva led Hermione to the end of the Gryffindor table where a couple empty seats were waiting to be filled. Hermione took a seat next to Minerva who seemed very concerned about the sobbing girl sitting across from her. Her arms were crossed over the table in front of her, and her face was buried into them as she shook with her quiet sobbing. Another girl with a caramel, wavy bob haircut and delicate frame sat next to Myrtle trying desperately to settle her down. Silently Minerva and Hermione exchanged curious glances before she made a move "Myrtle…" Her voice was soft, but also very cautious. As if she was afraid that the girl would cease to exist if she had spoken much louder.

Minerva extended a hand Myrtle's elbow in an attempt to comfort her "No!" The other girl cautioned, her hand futilely outstretched. She was too late. Minerva's extension of kindness had regretfully backfired. A very loud sob was extracted from her, and Myrtle's shoulders heaved with the force of her outburst.

Minerva quickly retracted her hand "Augusta, was it Tom again?" She asked not daring to make a second attempt at comforting Myrtle. Before Augusta could answer, another loud wail came from Myrtle confirming Minerva's suspicions—and turning a few heads from some of the students farther down the table.

"Tom?" Hermione inquired as the Myrtle girl continue to sob relentlessly.

Minerva nodded solemnly, her lips pressing themselves into a flat, displeased line. With that firm expression on her face Hermione could see a faint glimmer of the strict, future transfiguration professor she had once known. Minerva crossed her arms over her chest "He is an arrogant, narcissistic troll from Slytherin house." She shook her head disdainfully "Myrtle has had a crush on him ever since we started Hogwarts. She has made countless attempts at catching his attention, as have many girls in this school, but he always mercilessly turns them down." Her eyes hardened with smoldering hatred "It's as if he thinks he is too good for any girl here." Hermione glanced sideways at Myrtle with both understanding and pity. She knew what it felt like to have an unrequited love and sympathized with her. Minerva's sharp gaze turned back to Augusta "What did he do this time?" She asked, struggling to contain her outrage.

Augusta sighed "She asked him to the Halloween ball."

"And? What did he say?" Inquired Minerva.

"He rejected her like usual." Myrtle let out another loud, heavy sob and an apologetic look crossed over Augusta's face for speaking so thoughtlessly. She turned her attention back to Myrtle "Now, now Myrtle. Don't worry so much about that terrible Tom." She said softly "It's not just you. He doesn't seem to like any girl in this school." Her words were meant to be soothing, but had the exact opposite effect. Myrtle stood up from the table and ran from the Great Hall still heavily sobbing "E-Excuse me." Augusta murmured as she followed after her friend. Minerva watched as she disappeared through the large doors. Hermione could tell that she was itching to go after the both of them, but stayed put as to be polite.

"Minerva," Hermione began with an understanding smile "Go ahead, I know my way to the commons room." Minerva nodded and sent Hermione a grateful smile before chasing after the two other girls. Hermione's eyes lingered on the doors leading out of the room for a long while. She was also worried about the three of them, but she was aware of the fact that she didn't know them well enough to provide any kind of help. With a soft sigh she returned to the plate of food in front of her. She took small, dainty bites of her roast beef. Being surrounded by a room full of strangers was a bit unnerving, and so Hermione was feeling a little too nervous to eat normally.

"It seems as though your newly found friends have abandoned you." His voice had a smooth, honeyed drawl to it. Hermione glanced up to see a face that she recognized. It was that strange boy from before. The one that had dumped her off at the door of the school and then vanished into the shadows. He shot her a dazzling white smile "May I?" He asked politely, motioning gracefully to the empty seat beside her with his hand.

"It depends, do you always act so rudely to the damsels you are trying to save?" Hermione replied, letting him know that she hadn't forgot about the way he had left her the other night.

That dazzling smile faltered as a look of realization crossed his handsome face. It was obvious that he had forgotten who she was. He feigned a low chuckle "Not usually." The strange boy replied his dark eyes catching hers "It seems that even valiant knights can have a bad day." Hermione had to admit that he was a very charming person. He spoke in such an eloquent manner that it was difficult to want to reject his request to sit next to her. He possessed a dangerous amount of charisma.

Hermione quirked her brow into a high arch "And you consider yourself a valiant knight?" She inquired, a smile playing at the edges of her lips.

He shook his head, a few stray tussles of raven black hair falling over his forehead "Not by any means." He took a seat next to her, and she didn't object "However, I do pride myself on being a gentleman." He replied with a mischievous glimmer in his dark eyes. She couldn't manage to look away from those obsidian depths.

"Is that so?" Hermione replied softly, slowly falling victim to the obsidian depths of those dark eyes.

"It is so." He replied smoothly "Now then, as a gentleman, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tom Riddle." _Tom Riddle…_ The name played over and over in her mind like a bad vinyl record. She had heard that very same name somewhere… if only she could remember… It was right there at the tip of her tongue.

Then it came to her… Every last drop of blood in her veins turned icy cold. Tom _Marvolo_ Riddle. This boy… Hermione began memorizing every last detail of his face, encrypting it into her memory. Years after their crusade in the Chamber of Secrets, on a particularly dark night, Harry had told her about meeting Voldemort's young counterpart. He told her both about his mannerisms and appearance. He had given her such a highly detailed description because that face had been the reason behind many sleepless nights for Harry. This boy that sat next to her—this charming, polite, eloquent speaking boy was the very same monster that would take everything from her fifty years from now. Hermione abruptly stood up, not even bothering to return his introduction "Excuse me, I'm not feeling too well." Her words were stiff, and just barely made it passed her lips.

"Pardon me?" He replied, appearing to be both confused and irritated by her sudden departure.

Hermione forced a smile that she was sure didn't look a bit natural—it would have to do "It was nice to meet you Tom." She said barely containing the tremor in her voice. She had never been a very good liar, and Hermione could tell that he was not fooled "But I really must go." Before he had time to stop her, Hermione bolted out the doors of the grand hall and took off at a run.

Tom's POV

What in the bloody hell had just happened?

Tom followed her with his eyes as she all but hurled herself out of the great hall. The conversation seemed to be rather successful in his opinion. That strange girl was reciprocating their light banter and seemed to be enjoying herself. Then without warning her whole demeanor changes. He replayed that look of pure terror reflecting in those doe brown eyes. Tom was all too familiar with the kind of fear that she had shown him. He had seen it many times before in the children at the orphanage, and in the faces of his followers. It was the kind of fear that one would express when facing a monster. But they had only just met, had they not? Surely, she did not have a reason to be afraid of him. Yet, that look on her face, the way her shoulders had trembled just slightly suggested otherwise.

Tom frowned deeply. Her strange reaction to his name was both mysterious and perplexing. The vast majority of the witches in Hogwarts found him attractive, and charming. Most of the girls he came in contact with threw themselves at him. In fact, the only exceptions were those few girls that were marked as his deatheaters, and that prudent witch Minerva McGonagall (She was such a kill joy that he suspected she had been raised at some sort of nunnery). That girl was neither one of his deatheaters, nor a prude—He could tell by the way her eyes became all moony before he disclosed his name. So why had she reacted that way? What did she know? No one was afraid of him without a damn good reason.

Again, he replayed her delicious look of fear. Those horrified doe brown eyes, he simply couldn't stop thinking about them. He couldn't read her. She put up an impeccable mind block. During their conversation he was silently using legilimency. With being mere inches away from her, his use of legilimency was significantly stronger than when he had been tables away. By all means he should have been able to break into whatever mind barrier an unsophisticated seventh year Gryffindor was able to conjure; however, as he poked and prodded around the barrier Tom quickly discovered that it was iron clad. These thoughts drew Tom to two very important questions. The first was the most obvious and also the most pressing: Who was this witch? The second would be the hardest to answer: What was she hiding? Those two questions circled Tom's head as he stood up from the Gryffindor table, and walked out of the great hall with the intent of stopping by the library. He would find a way to get what he wanted out of that girl.

Hermione's POV

In her rush to put a great deal of distance between her and the young dark lord, Hermione hadn't realized that she was heading to the library until she was already there. She was a bit out of breath but recovered quickly enough. As Hermione glanced around the large library she was pleased to know that this safe haven of hers hadn't changed any in the last fifty years. The floor to vaulted ceiling book shelves still lined the walls in massive rows that was laid out like a maze. If you weren't careful you could actually get lost in the library. Hermione faintly recalled the time that Neville Longbottom got lost in those shelves for three days. No one had even noticed that he had been missing until he emerged from the library three days later, crying and very hungry. Pushing her old memories out of her mind, Hermione knew that she had more important things to think about. Such as the fact that she might have classes with Voldemort.

Hermione allowed her body to use muscle memory to find that secret alcove in the back of the library. She had stumbled upon the spot in her second year when Harry and Ron were becoming entirely too unbearable to study around. The place was a comfortable bay window seat wedged between two huge bookcases. It was secluded, quiet, and sported a fantastic view of the black lake. She had spent many of her days and nights studying there. Since she had been there so many times in the future, it took Hermione no time at all to find the window seat. A sad smile tugged at the edge of her lips as she sat down on the plush, purple padded seat. She folded her legs against her chest and crossed her arms over her knees.

Outside the window a blazing sunset reflected against the murky, black surface of the lake. A multitude of red and orange hues streaked violently across the sky before fading into a lighter pink. She had seen this view many times before, but this time seemed so different. It carried a kind of finality with it. She had spent her first day here in the past, and it would only be one of thousands. She nestled her chin into her arms. How could she possibly live in this time? Today Hermione discovered that she was attending the same Hogwarts that a young Voldemort was. A shard of ice shot down her spine. She hadn't suspected that the young man she was idlily chatting with would one day be the darkest wizard in history. He just seemed so normal and-oddly- polite. When Ginny had once told her that he had a charm about him that was practically irresistible, Hermione had scoffed at her. She just couldn't imagine how a monster like him could have an ounce of charm. Today she saw it firsthand. Tom Marvolo Riddle keep a flawless appearance of a polite, charming young man. He had mastered fooling people, and that made him all the more dangerous. He was like a wolf wearing a sheep's wool.

"I trust you are feeling better?" Hermione felt her heart stop dead in her chest as she looked up to the owner of that smooth baritone.

She quickly jumped up from the window seat, as if it had burned her "Uh, yes, I feel much better t-thank you…" Hermione stammered as she headed past him.

Just as she came to be shoulder to shoulder with young Voldemort, he stuck out his arm and pressed his palm firmly against the bookcase. Hermione was trapped "Usually I would go about this in a much different way, but you have provoked my curiosity." Hermione's eyes widened in fear as she looked up into those cruel, obsidian depths. Tom forced a smile "I know that you lied to me." This wasn't good. He was far too perceptive of her reaction. If she lied to him again what would he do?

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A/N: I hope that you all have enjoyed this chapter. See you again next time!


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